


Pianist

by Pi (Rhea)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Austria is a pianist to the core. drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pianist

Austria is a pianist to the core. Hungary knows this from experience. All through the day he sits and works on his music while she tidies, cooks, fends off prussia, and makes sure her little Italy is doing it's work, but doing so cheerfuly and in good health and sprits. She is the true head of the houselod, Austria has his music.

During the day she will stop in hallways to listen wether to an echo from far away or foom behind a closed door, leaning back and imaggining his concentrated face, the flyaway hair of Mariazell swaying to the with his hole body as he moves with the music. There are many thing Hungary loves Austria for, his muisc is just one of them. But at night when she removes her pinafore, and slides out of her dress, into a slip nightgown she is reminded her husband is a pianist. As they ly in bed together, idlying discussing the day, italy, Prussia, Austria's music, her chores, his fingers play out paterns across her shoulders touching them as gently and as purposefully as he caresses the black and white keys. Her spine becmes an arpeggio, the swirl of hair a tthe nape of her neck a trill following the scale of her spine. The small mole on her right shoulder a quarter note, and the scars beneath her left shoulder blade a legato riff. Hungry relaxes under his touch, lets his close-croped nails and elegant hands revitalize her body, strung hard from work and the effort of holding togehter a house.

Austria's fingers play out contentment, and loosen her eyelids till she flutters neither asleep nor awake, a butterfly perched between the two, listening to the soft rise and fall of his voice, yet aware of only his fingers across her back, the sliding, sinious stroke of his fingernails gliding acbetween her shoulder blades. Austria brings her to life. He plays her better perhaps than he does his piano, and she sings for him. Her back arches with sighs and Austria coaxes everyone to perfection with just his fingertips. The subtle edge of his nails catch across the snesative skin just beneath her arms before lowering the shoulders of her slip to trace the pads of his fingers across her breasts, a tap to each nipple quick light notes, then circling round with thumbs, deeper darker sounds, the resonance of her body always echoing his music.

Hungary knows sher husband is a pianist, and she is greatful for his touch, his words, the song only he can make her play. She may not be musically talented, but she doesn't need to be, for Austria she is the perfect instrument.


End file.
